And When You Pray

I was doing a search to see if it is called a "kneeling bench" or a "kneeler bench" and I came across a place that sells prayer benches that you sit on while you're kneeling to pray. They're pretty cool. It takes the weight off your knees while still allowing you to kneel, which is nice for those of us with bad knees. As I was reading the product description, I came across the following line: "Tucks neatly under bed or into a closet when not in use." Wait a minute. Tucks neatly into a closet when not in use?

Me, Headaches, Me, Breast Pumps, Me, Me

I had a headache on Thursday - the sun-cursing kind. After supper, Laura sent me out to the store to purchase some breast-pump accessories for a missionary in Ghana. I was a little short with her, walking out the door. As I was driving to the store, I was angry and hurt and I could feel the exhaustion from my headache - I nearly went blank a couple of times. (That's how my brain feels when I have a bad headache, as if it is about to power down.) Fortunately, the headache began to fade the farther I got from my house and the legion of children who filled it.

When I got to the baby store, I went inside and walked up to the counter and the cute sales clerk. "Can I help you?" she said. "Yes," I said, "My wife called about some stuff for a," I looked away, "um, breast pump?" I coughed. She showed me what they had available - exactly what we needed. I paid hurriedly and left the store. And on my way home, Laura called and asked if I was all right. "I'm fine. It's just that I had a headache all day and nobody cares," I said.

(Idiot!)

Yes, I actually said "and nobody cares." Is there anyone else in the world that is that big of a baby? Okay, and above the age of ten? I don't even remember what Laura said in response to my soul-stirring rendition of "Nobody Knows."

(Idiot!)

Lyons and Tired and Bears, Oh My!

My family and I went hiking up at Hanging Rock State Park today. We took a grueling hike on the easy trail to the upper falls and spent some time enjoying the waterfall. We then hiked back, got in our vehicle, and drove over to the wooded picnic area (about 100 meters) and got out our packed lunch. As we entered the picnic area, we were greeted by a sign that said some black bears had been sighted recently and to use caution. We were fairly confident that we wouldn't be bothered, however, and sat down near the trash cans to eat our tuna sandwiches and berries. We finished up with some delicious honeycomb.

Proof? #1

Before Doughnut
Originally uploaded by sixlyons.

The following photos were taken today at Will's first birthday. Were doughnuts actually the Forbidden Fruit?

This is Will before eating his doughnut.

Proof? #2

Beginning Doughnut
Originally uploaded by sixlyons.

This is Will beginning his doughnut.

Proof? #3

After Doughnut
Originally uploaded by sixlyons.

This is Will after eating his birthday doughnut.

It's Here, Will

You're Soaking in It
Originally uploaded by sixlyons.

Will crawled today. Oh, he's been getting around for a couple of months, but only by dragging himself, sliding himself, across our wood floors. But not today. Today he got up on his hands and knees and, with a toothless giggle, he took off. It was like he'd been practicing at night in his playpen, hardly able to wait to spring the big surprise on us.

Happy birthday, Will. I love you, buddy.

Books, Blogs, and Belly Buttons

My second daughter was asking me this morning about her belly button. "Was I naked inside Mommy's belly?" And I explained to her that the umbilical cord fed her and helped her to "breathe." Our belly buttons are marks on our bodies that remind us where we came from, where we began. Reminders like that are important for us. We have such terrible memories.

The Bible is a series of markers. Throughout their history, the Israelites set up markers, that they might remember the extraordinary mercies and works of God. And they were able to say, "Hey, if you don't believe me, go look at the 12 stones in the middle of the Jordan - they're still there." When questioned about the Trinity, it is good and appropriate to simply say, "Go to the Jordan." Not for the 12 stones, but because all three persons of the Godhead are present at Jesus' baptism. Other literature serves the same purpose. And markers are one of the things I love about stories. I can remember stories.

I wear a wedding band. I take pictures. I read books. Yea, verily, I even blog. These are some of the things I have and do in order to remember. Memory instructs us how to live, and it instructs us how to hope when we feel hopeless.

Scheduled to be burned at the stake, Polycarp, who we believe knew the apostle John and was the bishop of Smyrna, was begged to recant and deny his faith in Christ that he might live. Polycarp responded, "Eighty and six years have I served Him, and He never did me any injury. How then can I blaspheme my King and my Savior?"

Polycarp remembered.

Rain

The children are asleep, my wife is asleep, and the rain is pouring down upon the metal roof above me. It would be quite lovely, if only I could listen, if only I could hear.

What I hear is a barrage of words in my brain. And the words are jealous. Their noise crowds out the sensuous rain. It scares me that I cannot quiet myself and listen. I know there was a time when I was able to. I remember being a scared boy alone in my room listening to all the sounds, wondering if the branch scratching against the siding was some misshapen thing slowly, inexorably crawling toward me. Now the fear is gone, but I can no longer hear. All I have is this uncensored, formless novel in my head reading like a bad Joyce knockoff on fetuses or guilt. It makes it hard to think sometimes.

I want to hear rain again. I want to hear the tapping tapping tapping on my metal roof.

Wisdom and Grace

Sophie's Second Tooth
Originally uploaded by sixlyons.

In God's wisdom and grace, my first child, a little girl, was born. It's hard to believe it was six years ago. She is both new and old, and she is so much in between.

The nurses had taken her from the delivery room, wanting to bathe her, weigh her, measure her, etc. I wanted to see her. So I walked down to the nursery, a proud but uncertain daddy. She had just been bathed and she was wailing. The nurse tried to comfort her, but without success. She handed my daughter to me, and I whispered between the wails, "Shhh. Daddy loves you." And this tiny baby, barely an hour old and hardly six pounds, knew my voice and stopped crying. At that moment, I was hers. I will be until I die.

Sophia, Daddy loves you. Happy birthday, Sweetheart.